Handle With Care
by boxers-or-briefs
Summary: The Camdens that you thought you knew don't live here anymore. Simon is struggling to support his younger siblings and mother, who isn't what she once was. And Lucy's making her way through life in a little shorter skirt. R&R.
1. One

Disclaimer: I do not own the television series, _7th Heaven_ or any of its characters, locations, etc. Everything of that sort belongs to someone who has much more power than I will ever possess. And I don't own IHOP either. ;)

Summary: The Camdens that you thought you knew don't live here anymore. Simon is struggling to support his younger siblings and mother, who isn't what she once was.

Author's Note: This was just something that came into my head one day during French class. It's something different (thank God), and also a Simon story. Taking a break from Ruthie for a while. And I also have a Lucy/Kevin story, and a Mary/Wilson story in the works. All I hope for this is that you don't hate it. So...enjoy!

**Handle With Care**

* * *

One

Angry rocks grumbled under his too small shoes as he made his way home from school that day. With a dirty finger, he tapped the ash off the tip of his lit cigarette. He wasn't in any hurry to get home, because he knew what was waiting for him. Lucy was smart to leave; she didn't let the tragedy bring her down too far, but it was still painful to even think her name, for she broke all ties with those who she loved, and those who loved her, as she went. No one even knew where she was,_ how_ she was.

Of course, it hadn't always been like that. The Camdens used to be happy people, a happy family, only being troubled by the opposite sex at times. Boyfriends and girlfriends came and went, but no matter what happened, they were always together. They tolerated pointed questions about their love life, for they knew, on some level, that it was because they were loved. It wasn't _perfect_, but it was nice to know that they would never be alone.

But they were naive.

Their father had gone and died, and Annie went all to pieces. She wasn't even a mother anymore, just a mess of a woman who hid behind her bedroom door in the dark at all hours. And when she did manage to drag herself out of her cave, it was proven that she was unable to look at her children, for they all reminded her so of Eric. It pained Simon to see her like that, because that wasn't her. She was a smart woman and a good mother. He refused to accept her the way she was now. Every night, as he lay in bed, he would tell himself that things would get better one day; but one day seemed to be just too far out of his grasp to even seem achievable.

No one called any more. Matt was gone with Sarah, as he had been for years now. Simon didn't know if they were still in school, or whatever became of them. Mary was the same way, but she hadn't changed much. She never really did call, even when their father was alive. And Lucy just took off. For all they knew, she could be lying in a ditch somewhere, dead; only she probably wasn't, because she was Lucy.

What was once a close family was now reduced to a small group of strangers. Everyone was different, and Simon blamed him father for that. When he got himself killed, he changed everything. They had to leave the house, because no Camden was working as a minister there. Now they had moved downtown, where bums roamed the streets and rummaged through trashcans for food or money. Downtown, where there were robberies at least every night, downtown in the Atwaters Apartment complex.

Their apartment was one consisting of three bedrooms and one bath. Simon had a room to himself, while Ruthie and the boys shared. Annie, of course, had her own, which she also never came out of. They referred to it as her "cave," for she was like a bear that was hibernating and never woke up when winter was over.

Simon wasn't as worried about his older siblings, for he knew that they could take care of themselves. His biggest concern was how he was to care for Ruthie and the boys. He hoped that he could make enough at his after school job, serving at the local IHOP, to buy them the things that they needed, so they didn't get taken away from him. Deep down, really deep down, he knew that his salary and tips alone could not do what needed to be done, and it was only a matter of time until they were ripped away from him, and he was ripped away from his mother (if you could call her that anymore).

He couldn't remember when the Camdens stopped being The Camdens. They weren't a family anymore. It amazed him how one tragedy, a loss of a single person, could tear everything apart, burn any bridge that they had built together, and bulldoze the highest hill that they had climbed. The exact moment was unknown to him, but he was almost sure that it had started before - years before - Eric Camden had died. His death had only cut the thread they had been hanging on by.

Maybe it was when Mary had gone down, allowing the bill collectors run her life. Maybe it was when she got kicked out of the house, and was sent to New York to live with "old people." They had all been listening on the stairs that night, except for Lucy, who was supposedly perfect and had to "respect their parents' wishes." Maybe it was Lucy, who was always trying to be like their mother. Maybe she got so fuckin' good at it that she had run Annie down. Maybe it was only _his_ fault. Maybe it was when he had killed that kid, Paul Smith. It was an accident and everyone understood that. That was what they had told him when they were all so "supportive" of him. Had he not gotten out of there when he did, they would have driven him absolutely bananas just trying to get him to "feel better."

Simon dropped the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out in front of the building. Taking a calming breath, Simon prepared himself to appear pulled together before his sister, who could smell something disturbing a mile away. He pulled the door to the apartment complex open and began the four-flight climb.


	2. Two

_**Handle With Care  
**_

* * *

Two

Ruthie Camden looked longingly at her mother's closed bedroom door. Maybe if she just went in there and talked to her everything would be all right. But she knew Lucy had tried that before she left and it hadn't done any good at all. If anything, it only made matters worse. The young woman sighed, and returned to her homework, trying to do as her mother did – put the ones she loved out of mind.

It never got any easier, growing up without a mother or sister to confide in. She had Simon, but a brother just wasn't the same. When her father died, he took everyone down, and for that, she hated him. Her mother would never be what she once was, and that, everyone knew and felt.

Didn't Annie understand that even though her husband, and love of her life, was gone, she still had children who needed her? Every night, Ruthie would lie in bed and wonder if her mother loved her anymore. She had heard tales of mothers abandoning their children, and Ruthie had felt sympathy for those kids. She just never thought it would happen to her.

Shoving her schoolwork aside, Ruthie vacated her seat on the couch and began a search for her most valuable possession: a book her mother had given to her years ago. She got down on her knees and reached under her bed, pulling out a square item. It was the baby book Annie had given her when she was feeling "motherless" when the twins were born. This was the only piece of her mother that she had left.

Cradling the album in her arms as if it were precious, Ruthie got to her feet and headed to her mother's room, stopping just at the door. Right when her hand had closed around the knob, Simon entered the apartment and gave her a look that chilled her bones.

"What did you do?" he asked, coming over to her. His eyes glanced between her and the entrance into Annie's "cave."

Quickly, Ruthie responded, "Nothing, I swear." Noticing her hand was still on handle, she retracted it as if it were burning with fire.

Simon continued his interrogation. "But you were going to do something, weren't you?" He pointed to her book. "What's that?"

She was about to defend herself, when a certain smell caught her attention. After sniffing the air, Ruthie knew exactly what it was. Finding the tables were turning, she acted upon it.

Looking nonplussed, she asked, "Have you been smoking?"

Simon's reaction was slightly delayed as he tried to find an excuse. "No. I'm not an idiot."

Ruthie scoffed and raised an accusing eyebrow. "Yes, you are. You've done some pretty idiotic things in the past."

Realizing he couldn't win this argument, Simon pushed past his sister and began to walk away.

"You don't know anything," he called over his shoulder.

A few seconds later, Ruthie had followed him into the kitchen. Fire was blazing behind her eyes.

"I know more than you think I do," she stated. "I know enough to not smoke or lie. And unlike _you_, I know enough to respect and honor what dad taught us!"

Simon felt his jaw tighten. He jerked Ruthie's book from her hold. When he saw what it was, he scoffed. Throwing it back to her, he said, "You can keep on dreaming, Ruthie, but Mom is _never coming back_."

Looking like she wanted to spit at his feet, she said in a dangerously low voice, "You're wrong." Ruthie spun on her heels and disappeared into her room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

"Have you heard from any of your brothers or sisters lately?" Carlos asked his wife as they were putting the kitchen back into order after dinner. He was busy washing dishes while Mary put food, among other things, away.

Mary shook her head as she closed a Tupperware container. "Not since Dad died," she replied shortly.

Carlos set a dish aside in the drainer. Plunging his hands into the sudsy water yet again, he grabbed a glass while studying Mary. Her expression gave nothing away.

"Aren't you worried about them?" he asked, running the washrag over the blue paint of the coffee mug. Mary's response was delayed, and he knew she was about to lie to him.

She sighed, beginning to get irritated. "Not really. Lucy's with them, and you know she's just like mom anyway."

Carlos pulled the plug at the bottom of the sink, and watched as the soapy water spiraled down the drain. Mary seemed to take on wiping down the table with a vengeance.

"You know," he said uneasily, "you haven't really talked about...anything relating to your dad since he died."

Angrily, Mary threw down the rag. "I can't have this conversation with you right now. I'm going to bed."

Carlos watched her leave, feeling sorry he had even opened his mouth in the first place.

* * *

Lucy Camden watched the ceiling as the man in bed next to her stirred while he woke. She expelled a breath of relief. _God, it's about time,_ she thought.

Stretching, he turned to her, a cocky smile on his face. "Lucy," he drawled. "Last night was, um, beautiful – like you." He leaned toward her, expecting her to give him a passionate, fiery kiss, but instead he ran face-first into her flexed hand.

"Just shut up and give me money, or I will be sure to castrate you," she demanded, staring him coldly in the eye.

"Damn, can't you take a compliment?" he asked as he rummaged around in his nightstand drawer. A second later, he pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "Here."

Lucy snatched the cash out of his hands. After confirming that it was real, she pushed herself out of bed and gathered each article of her clothing from throughout the room. She was perfectly aware of his perverted eyes on her as she rescued her black bra from his dirty floor.

Just before she closed the door behind her, she called out to him over her shoulder, "Thanks for the workout."

Lucy Camden had been living in Dayton, Nevada now for almost one year exactly. Living without the money that her parents had supplied her with since she was a girl, was a challenge for Lucy, but she was getting by. Not in a way her parents would have approved of, but that wasn't important. It only mattered whether she was alive or not, and for now, she was alive.

She didn't know how long ago it was since she thought of her siblings. Truthfully, Lucy didn't worry about it much. It was best for her to leave them. They would have only slowed her down and given her gray hairs.

If her father could see her now, he wouldn't know her at all, she was so different. One thing she knew: he wouldn't approve of what she was doing or how she lived her life, day by day, not planning for the future. Had she been the old Lucy Camden, she would have cared what her parents thought of her, but now, she didn't give a rat's ass.

"Hey, can I bum a cigarette?" she asked a teenage boy who was standing on the corner smoking.

He looked her over, from her thickly lined eyes to her extremely short plaid skirt, and nodded anxiously. Quickly, he produced an extra cigarette and silver lighter from his pocket and handed them to her.

"Thanks," she said, tossing the lighter back to him. Lucy took a drag on her cigarette and expelled the smoke slowly in the boy's face. The woman, just weeks over twenty, left the boy coughing on the corner.


	3. Three

_**Handle With Care**_

Three

* * *

"Where did you get that?" Lucy demanded, frozen in the doorway of her apartment. Alyssa, her roommate, was standing near her bed holding a familiar and quite personal item that Lucy kept hidden under her pillow.

Alyssa grinned and turned the photograph around to Lucy as if she had just asked to see it. "Who's this hunk?" she taunted. "And old boyfriend, perhaps?" Alyssa wiggled the piece of paper around as if it was dancing or blowing carelessly in the wind.

"Give it to me," Lucy warned, ready to tackle this woman who dared to mess with her and her life she never wanted to bring back.

"Tell me and I will." Alyssa climbed atop her bed and held the photo way out of Lucy's reach. She was smiling like an idiot, as if she had just won some fabulous prize, when in fact, she didn't know what she was getting into.

Lucy lowered her voice, not liking the newfound resistance her roommate was giving her, "Alyssa, you don't know what you're digging up. Just don't."

"An emotional scar, eh?" Alyssa looked thoughtfully at the picture and then back at Lucy, giving her a malicious sneer. "Tell me, or I'll rip it."

"You are such a-"

"Brat?" Alyssa provided.

Lucy glared at the woman and replied, "It's not what I was going to go with, but it works."

Alyssa sighed. "Yeah, I know. But at least I know how to get what I want."

Expelling the breath that she didn't notice she had been holding, Lucy realized that she was never going to win this argument. Alyssa already knew everything about her, she might as well know about Kevin too. Lucy fell into a nearby chair and looked up into Alyssa's green, accomplished eyes.

"The man in the picture is Kevin Kinkirk. Before my father died, he was my boyfriend. We were going to get married, but I guess something happened." Lucy looked down into her lap, not wanting Alyssa to see her cry. "He said I changed, and that he didn't like that side of me, much less love it, so...he left."

Alyssa get down from her perch and handed the photograph back to Lucy. "You haven't heard from him since?" she asked, sounding as if she could care less.

Lucy reached a hand up to her face, trying to wipe her tears away discreetly. "No."

Alyssa let out an irritated breath. "Oh, stop your crying. He's probably much happier now that he's gone. Knowing your family, that's all the piece of mind you need."

Lucy sat stunned, not sure of what to make of her friend's comment. She knew Ally was forthright, but this was extremely surprising to hear, even from her.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she demanded.

Alyssa shrugged and turned her back to Lucy as she walked away. "You know perfectly well what it means," she called over her shoulder just as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

Kevin's hazel eyes looked up at her. He was happy. They both were. "_What happened to me, Kevin?" _she asked silently, but Kevin offered no reply. She was ultimately alone.

* * *

Mary expelled a shaky breath as she held the phone up to her ear and listened to it ring. It wasn't long before her Aunt Julie picked up the other end. Not being able to find her voice, or her courage, Mary couldn't speak.

"Hello?" Aunt Julie repeated for the third time, and Mary was sure she was going to hang up on her. This was one of the hardest things Mary had to do in her recently found adult life. If she didn't say anything, this phone call would be nothing more than a minor annoyance on both parts.

"Aunt Julie, it's Mary."

There was silence, then:

"Mary? Gosh, it's been so long. How are you?" Julie said without a breath in between.

Mary could feel herself smiling. It was nice to hear someone be happy that she called. "I'm sorry I haven't called. I've had...a lot to deal with."

"I know, and it's okay. We're talking now." Julie paused. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Here it was: Mary's entire reason for calling.

"Actually, yeah, there is something." Mary suddenly wondered if she should even be asking her aunt to do this. After all, it was something that she, herself, could do. Figuring Julie was the better candidate for the job, Mary went on, "I was hoping that you had heard from my Mom or any of my brothers or sisters..."

Mary could almost see the smile fading from her aunt's face. The hesitance told her the answer was not going to be a good one.

"No, honey, I'm sorry. I haven't heard from any of them since they moved into that new apartment."

Mary bit her lip. "That was months ago."

"What's going on, Mary?" For the first time throughout their whole conversation, Mary could hear the concern in Julie's voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, I haven't heard from any of them, either, and I'm really worried. I was calling to see if you could kind of...check up on them...? I would do it myself, but I'm all the way out here in New York and you're so much closer."

Carlos stood in the doorway to the master bedroom that he and Mary shared. He knew he shouldn't have been listening, but it was nice to see his wife taking on responsibility. Actually, he didn't exactly have a choice. She wouldn't talk to him about anything and was reduced to eavesdropping. Anything to give him a piece of mind that Mary was really okay after what had happened to her – their – family. She still had a long way to go, but this was a very good beginning.

* * *

Simon finished setting the table with food and whatnot as the twins, Sam and David, went to get Ruthie for dinner. Every night around this time, he would always get these painful pangs in his heart, for he missed the family dinners were everyone would sit around the table and laugh at ridiculous stories that were being told. Sometimes he wondered if his mother would ever join them for a meal again, or if he would have to continue to bring her food on a tray as if she was a sickly, bedridden, senior citizen.

"Is that Mom's?" Ruthie asked, nodding towards the already dished noodles on the serving platter, when she arrived with the twins by her side.

"Who else would it be for?" Simon asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he filled a glass with water and set it next to the plate.

Ruthie glared. "It's 'whom'."

Simon glanced at her briefly and picked up the serving tray that was ready to go to Annie.

"Let me take it. Please?" Ruthie begged.

Without missing a beat, Simon replied, "No."

Ruthie crossed her arms over her chest, instantly feeling defensive. "Why not?"

"Because you aren't mature enough to deal with this." Carefully, Simon balanced the tray on his hip while he opened the door to his mother's darkened room.

Once inside, Simon set the tray down on the table that was near the entrance. Looking over to the bed, he was able to make out his mother's thin form under the covers. He went to stand by her side and shook her gently until she was awake. She opened her eyes, but refused to look at him, and he knew why.

I remind her of Dad, he thought.

"Mom, I have your dinner," he said softly, brushing her stringy hair away from her pale face. She seemed to have aged fifty years from when he last saw her that morning. Dark circles hung under her eyes and her eyelashes, once full and beautiful, were thin and almost nonexistent. Annie looked so different than what she used to, he might not have known this woman at all. She wasn't his mother anymore; she didn't even look like her.


	4. Four

_**Handle With Care**_

* * *

Four

Simon tied the navy blue apron around his waist as he prepared himself for the long workday ahead. It would be another five dull hours of serving ungrateful people their food. He would much rather sit with his vegetable-like mother for the rest of his pathetic life than be here. If he didn't need the money, he would quit and never return, even if he was the costumer and not the waiter. His father's life insurance check alone was not enough to cover all the bills. This job was as important as oxygen. Without it, he and his remaining family members that _weren't_ old enough to leave would die.

The seventeen-year-old boy stepped up to the wooden podium near the front entrance and waited, already wishing the usual breakfast rush hour were over even before it had began. As he stood hunched over the small table, he tapped his thumbs, subconsciously entertaining himself, when he spotted her. She came in every day for a cup of coffee before work. He had had the privilege of seating her a few times and each time was a wonderful experience. Her eyes were such a rare and gorgeous shade of green it almost felt like you had to have special permission just to look into them.

She gave him a sweet smile as he straightened, reaching his full height. Simon could feel his heart pounding in his chest while he ran through the usual greeting all IHOP waiters were ordered to give. He could vaguely smell her perfume – the one she always wore – a light lavender fragrance with a hint of something else floral.

Politely, she expressed that wouldn't need a menu, just a cup of hot coffee. He nodded, and, feeling his spirits perk only slightly, took her to her seat. As long as she was in his sight, he felt he could handle the day.

* * *

Doctor Hank Hastings walked into the master bedroom of his home and stopped dead in his tracks, catching sight of his wife clad in all black. 

"What are you doing, getting ready to rob a bank?" he joked, taking a sip of coffee from his yellow mug.

Julie rolled up her sleeves, feeling a bit overheated. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "That was Mary who called earlier," she explained. "She wants me to check on Annie and the kids."

Hank looked as confused as he felt. "Why can't you – or she – just call them instead of sneaking around their apartment?"

"Believe me, if I could I would. I'm supposed to just 'drop in'. I'm not even sure what reason I'm going to give them. Eh, I'll talk to you when I get back. It's complicated."

Hank nodded, though he was still lost. Figuring this was just one thing that he was not meant to understand, he went back to Julie's outfit.

"You do know that it's almost ninety-five degrees outside…and that it's broad daylight?" he teased, leaning against the doorframe.

His wife shrugged, looking down at what she was wearing. "It's what they do in the movies."

"Yes, but in the movies, they have the cover of darkness and actually know what they are looking for. Seeing that you have neither, you're going to stand out like a sore thumb in that getup - a very sweaty sore thumb."

* * *

Where did she know him from? Lucy wondered as she stood near the local shopping center and stared at a blonde teenage boy who was only a few feet away. It looked as if he had just come out of the movie theater with a group of friends. He gave off such a sense of familiarity, she couldn't just turn and walk away, which was exactly what she should have done. 

Lucy blinked, suddenly realizing who he was as his gaze slid over to her. He stopped laughing, and Lucy felt her breath catch. For a moment, they both stared, not really believe that the other was there. She turned around slowly, preparing to walk away, but he stopped her before she could take a step.

"Lucy!"

She closed her eyes, cursing at herself silently. Once again, she faced his direction and was not surprised to see him running towards her. It was like a scene right out of a sappy love story, where two lovers were reunited, running towards each other with there arms wide open, in a field full of daisies and whatnot that seemed to suddenly appear.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, grinning like a mad man.

Lucy looked down into Peter's expectant face. "I live here." She could see in his eyes that he was hoping to hear that Ruthie lived here as well. "_Only_ me," she added, almost wanting to dash his spirits.

He looked slightly disappointed and for a second, Lucy felt bad.

"I'm really sorry about your father. I tried to come to his funeral but-"

"It's fine," she snapped.

Peter brushed off the tone in Lucy's voice. "I didn't think it was really you. I mean, last time I saw you, you still lived in California."

"Yeah, well, I don't look like I used to either." She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly aware of her half-buttoned top.

"No, actually," he said thoughtfully. "You do."

"Excuse me?" She asked wondering if she had just been insulted by a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I mean, yeah, you're clothes have changed a little…" he said, scanning her from head to toe. As he reached her Mary-Jane shoes, he came to a wild conclusion. "Oh," he gasped, looking somewhat disgusted.

Lucy rolled her eyes, embarrassed. "I have to go." Even as she walked away, she could feel Peter watching her, could still see his horrified expression. As discomfited as she was, she would later look back on this experience and laugh, for she didn't think the boy had ever seen a hooker before.

* * *

Julie Hastings was getting angry. For the past fifteen minutes, she had been arguing her case to the manager in the apartment office. All she wanted was an extra key to her sister-in-law's residence and he would not give it to her. 

"I can't give you an extra key, lady. You have no permission to receive it," he replied firmly. Apparently he was irked also. He was a burly man with impeccable English and grammar skills.

Julie huffed. "It's important," she said, and considered getting down on her knees to grovel at his very large feet.

The man leaned forward, inches away from her face, and whispered, "You are _not_ getting an extra key." He pulled away, examining her outfit. "Besides, you look like you just stepped out of a James Bond movie."

She glanced sheepishly down at her choice of clothing and frowned. Shooting a hateful glare to the gentleman, she left in a huff, shrieking over her shoulder as she went, "You haven't seen the last of me!"

He shook his head, and laughed. "No, I'm sure I haven't."


	5. Five

_**Handle With Care**_

* * *

Five

Lucy closed the door to her apartment and sighed deeply. She had encountered someone whom she did not particularly want to come across. It was someone who she wanted to throw away along with the rest of her former life.

Alyssa came out of the bathrrom, rubbing her wet hair with a faded blue towl. She smiled coyly, catching site of Lucy leaning against the door.

"Why are you still here?" she asked. "I thought you were 'going to work'?"

Lucy regained her composure and simply shot back, "Apparently, I've stepped out into the past." She slumped down in a nearby chair and began to remove her high, leather black boots.

"Ooh," Alyssa said softly. "Another boyfriend?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, pulling her hair away from her face and securing it with a red scrunchie. "Yeah," she replied. "Just not mine."

Alyssa's eyebrow's raised over her interested green eyes. "A steamy affair perhaps?"

Lucy almost laughed at the idea of her little sister's boyfriend and her, but even before the giggle could form in her throat, it disappeared. "Definitely not."

"What, not pretty enough for you?"

Lucy got to her feet, intending to eat the last strawberry yogurt in the refridgerator. As she walked away, she answered over her shoulder, "No, too young."

She hoped that Alyssa would let it go now, and Lucy assumed that she had when her voice was not heard for the rest of the morning. Lucy, now clad in gray sweat pants, a whie T-shirt, and white socks, sat down on her bed and slid a hand under her single flat pillow after Alyssa had departed for her own place of employment. The photo shined dully in the dim light and was cold in her hands.

For a moment she could feel her heart flutter as she saw the man of her dream's face. He was so strong and protective and loving as she remembered him. Still, she counted the days since she had seen him last and each day, she expected it to get a little easier.

It didn't.

Mornings were the most difficult. Even she opened her eyes, she knew that there was no one beside her that could fulfill her deepest desires better than Kevin. And as she realized that, the sadness came and it took everything she had to force back memories and tears and go on with who she was these days.

Then, eventually, she would have to crawl into her own bed at night and lie there, staring at the ceiling in darkness, dwelling on who she used to be and what she could have amounted to. She wondered what her life would have been like if she _had_ married Kevin that spring. She wondered what her life would have been life if her father _hadn't_ died that fall.

And then the tears would come.

The darkness was her cover, her chance to be vulnerable. When there was light, she was exposed, forced to wear a mask. But when the light went away, and all was quiet and still, she allowed herself to feel.

* * *

The lovely-smelling-and-everything-else woman was sitting at her table, hunched over a magazine of some type sipping her coffee that he had just served her. From across the room, he watched her, even as he took an elderly couples' breakfast order. Somehow, he was able to remember two poached eggs on wheat toast because he hadn't managed to write anything legible down. 

After what seemed like forever and a day, she attempted to catch his attention for a moment or two - though she already had it - and Simon pretended that he hadn't seen her until just then. He finished up at the table where he was currently and made his way over to her, trying not to seem too eager.

He smiled what he hoped was a polite smile as she asked for her check. Simon, nodded, lowering his voice slightly as he replied, "Right away."

He slipped the black notepad holder out of his apron pocket and slid out her receipt. As she took it, her fingers brushed against his. They were as soft and as perfect as he imagined they would be. His heart skipped a beat and hoped to God that he wasn't beginning to sweat.

Just as he started to turn away, she looked up at him after scanning the piece of paper he had given her. He worried that he had made a mistake and was about to make himself look incredibly stupid.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

She grinned, her eyes bright. "No," she laughed sweetly. "I was just thinking about asking you out."

Simon was silent for a second, wondering if she had actually said those words. He turned his head to look around him, but there was no one near. "I'm sorry," he said, turning back to her. "What?"

She laughed. "Yeah, well, I noticed that you were incredibly attentive to me while I was drinking my coffee, and since I know there isn't anything wrong with me, I figured you liked me."

"Uh, well, uh... Um..."he stammered, searching for suave words that were not there. "Well, yeah." He felt his cheeks instantly catch fire and all he wanted to do was go into the kitchen and slam his head in the freezer.

She slid gracefully out of the booth and stood facing him, her full height catching him about his chin.

"Listen, there's this party tonight and I want you to come with me," she said, touching him lightly on the arm, sending shivers up and down his spine.

It was all he could do from grinning like a complete idiot. He gave her a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," she replied, reaching behind her to grab an unused napkin from the table and pulled the pen out from behind his ear. "I'll see you tonight then. Pick me up at eight," she said after she handed him back his pen along with the napkin that held her phone number and address.

"Okey dokey." He smiled and waved, completely disturbed by the words that had just come out of his mouth. He turned when the swinging door shut behind her and got back to work, just in time to hand the elderly couple their receipt.

Not once did he think about Ruthie and the boys and his unresponsive mother back at home. Not once did it cross his mind that he had responsibilities. Not once did it cross his mind that he wasn't a kid anymore.

* * *

"But, Simon, I'm hunrgy _too_!" Ruthie whined as she watched Simon prepare a dinner of minestrone soup and a bologna sandwhich for their mother before his date, which he would have to leave for in all of five minutes. 

"You can feed yourself and the boys," he replied setting the food on the wooden tray and pouring a glass of water. "You've done it before. Relax."

"I don't even see how you can be leaving," she said, brushing off his words. "I mean, I'm only thirteen! I can't even drive yet!"

"I would love to know how you got from food to cars," Simon said, tossing a napkin onto the tray before lifting it off the table.

"What if there is an emergency and we have to go to the hospital or somewhere?" she asked dramatically. "What if I _die_? Then everyone else will die because I won't be able to cook and we won't have food because I can't drive!"

"But if you died you wouldn't have to worry about anything like that anyway." Simon carried the tray into his mother's room and set it in it's usual place on her nightstand and came right back out. He was down to three minutes now and he didn't have time to waste. Ruthie was waiting for him with her arms crossed over her chest when he came out and he almost ran into her.

"What if there's a fire?" she demanded, ready for round two.

"There won't be a fire," Simon said, rolling his eyes. He kneeled down and grasped her shoulders. "Ruthie, just calm down. Nothing is going to go wrong. You'll be fine. You know how to boil water, so make some macaroni and cheese or something." He checked his watched as he stood. "I have to go, I'll be back around..." He paused.

"You don't know, do you?" she stated, staring him in the eye coldly.

"No, but it won't be too late. I'll take my key with me, so lock up before you go to bed." Just as he was about to walk out the door, he turned back to Ruthie, who still looked as if she didn't believe a word he said to her. "And leave Mom alone."

With that, he closed the door behind him, ready to embark on something that was completely family unrelated and was entirely welcomed. Little did he know, he was getting into something that was way over his eighteen-year-old head.


End file.
